Oh look, some metrics.

'"No". Long and long since Qiaqia had any place in WorldAbove that she might call home. For all she knew, the sea had stolen it away from any human knowledge. She could barely recall it herself. She said, "I left a long time ago."'

So I'm back to Grass King (this book really needs a title). 1021 new words, and a frustrating scene finished. I might get to some fun bits soon.

In other news, the cats are deeply unimpressed with the weather. It's cold! It's too windy! It's rainy! I rather like it myself: it's decided, it knows its own mind. But there has been much complaining and lap-getting and disgruntlement.

Skirt of the day: tweed. (Like I said, it's cold.)